


Beginnings

by slitt



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-23 18:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8337757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slitt/pseuds/slitt
Summary: Stan meets Ford's classmate, Rick, and the pair hit it off instantly. Despite Stan not actually attending the college, they spend the majority of their free time together and gradually realize that they want to be together intimately as well. AU where Stan follows Ford to college instead of parting ways.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [The Stanchez Micro Bang](http://stanchez-bang.tumblr.com). There's an art piece to go along with it [right here](http://not-so-friendly-wizards.tumblr.com/post/152049137052/)!! 
> 
> I wrote a bunch more but decided to scrap it because I liked what I had written for the premise better and then rushed it a lot. I only added a bit of Rick's stutter, I should have added more but I ran out of time. I definitely regret not just writing some old men smooching instead. Hopefully this is still fun!

“I don’t know why the fuck you picked this dump to meet at.”

Stan glanced over at the man leaning on the counter next to him. He was at least his own height, but lanky. He could easily picture the man fighting against a strong breeze while pulling his leather jacket tightly around himself. Stan turned his attention back to the coffee where he took the lid off the first cup to put in some cream and sugar.

“Now y-you have nothing to say.”

“Are you talking to me?” Stan asked.

“Real mature. Just because I don’t like this shithole.”

Stan smirked as he put the lid back on the coffee. “Let me guess, my brother said he’d meet you here.”

“Brother?” the man asked. He looked Stan up and down. Longer stubble. Grease under his fingernails. Shirt seemed just a hair tighter around his chest and arms. Faint smell of cigarettes. He said, “Twins.”

Stan replied, “Yeah.”

“Jackpot.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m Rick. Your brother and me, we’re working together on this project for school or some shit.”

Rick took the lid back off the coffee and took a flask out of his pocket and poured some of the contents into the coffee. Rick continued, “I latched onto your brother because he seems just anal enough to want to do the project by himself, so I get some credit and do fuck all work.”

He motioned the flask to the other cup. Stan took off his coffee’s lid and Rick poured some of the flask’s contents in. Rick said, “But y-your brother - what’s his fucking name again?”

“Ford.”

“Yeah, that guy, he seems smart enough to not make me look like a fucking asshole,” Rick said, “but not so smart that I’m going to have to make a huge effort for the rest of the year.”

Stan put the lid back on the coffee and the pair sat down at a table with another seat. Stan asked, “Wait, you think you’re smarter than Ford?”

“Let me just say he’s been theorizing to me about shit I’ve already seen in practice,” Rick said.

“Yeah? How about an example?”

“No, so what’s your deal?” Rick asked. “Haven’t seen you in any classes. No school sweater.”

“I’m not in school. I took an apprenticeship a couple years back and now I’m working there. And I work at a bartender part time too. Figure I can help Ford cover rent.”

“An apprenticeship for what?”

“A car mechanic.”

“Yeah? Y-you got a lot of spare parts?”

Stan shrugged. “Not on site. We have a deal with a junkyard a few blocks away so we get reduced rates for dumping and pick-ups.”

“Think you could hook me up?”

Stan rubbed his nose and said, “If you need me to fix your car, I can do it no problem.”

Rick laughed. “Y-you think I need help? Just need the parts.”

Stan folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in the chair. As much as he liked whatever was poured into his coffee, Rick’s arrogance left a bad taste in his mouth. He looked forward to seeing him push Ford’s buttons though. “If you want the discount, I’ll have to go with you. We can use my truck and I’ll help you load up. I doubt that your noodle arms can carry it all on your own.”

Rick laughed. “You got me there. All right, sure. What do you want? You’re not going to get a job out of it.”

“I mostly just want to see you rub Ford the wrong way,” Stan said, leaning forward. “Maybe you could top off my coffee again sometime.”

Rick leaned forward as well, grinning at him. “Yeah? You like that?”

“I may not be a genius like my brother-”

“-Genius is a stretch-”

“-you got that right, but I know my drinks. And I don’t know that.”

“Let me guess, y-you only bartend on this planet in this dimension.”

Stan’s brow furrowed. “Well, yeah.”

Rick smirked. “It’s a big galaxy out there. Lots of shit, but lots of good, yeah, good shit.”

Stan leaned back in his chair, but Rick stayed in place with his eyes locked onto Stan’s. Stan said, “So you’re really not from around here.”

“Transferred because I thought I’d get more out of this school,” Rick said.

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t mean knowledge?”

Rick laughed and said, “You know school’s for chumps.”

“I know it’s not for me.”

“I bet you’ve been hearing shit about your brother being a genius your entire life,” Rick said. “I’ve only talked to you for a few minutes and I already think you’re smarter.”

“How long have you talked to Ford?”

“I’ve had classes with him for a couple of months,” Rick said, stretching in his chair, sprawling his legs out. “Boring fucker. Never mentioned a brother.”

“Figures.”

“Yeah, well, family is bullshit,” Rick said. “Live with him?”

“Yeah.”

“Bet he makes you smoke on the balcony.”

“Yep.”

“What’s the bar y-you work at?”

“The Leaky Faucet.”

“Tonight?”

“Yep.”

“What am I looking at? Bar with live entertainment? A club? An inn?”

“Live entertainment on Fridays and Saturday. Pool. Trivia Tuesdays. Food’s available until Midnight.”

“Thank Christ it’s not Tuesday,” Rick said. “Tables or booths?”

“Mostly tables with a few booths on the side.”

“Room at the bar?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll try to stop by,” Rick said. “Haven’t found a post to hitch my horse to yet.”

“Is that a phrase?”

“I don’t fucking know. Here’s Ford. How late is he?”

Stan checked his watch. “Ten minutes. Must have been thinking about something. Probably forgot he was meeting me for coffee.”

“I wish we thought up a bit for this,” Rick said.

“You two talking will be entertainment enough for me.”

Rick offered Stan a crooked smile that faded as Ford approached. “Sorry,” Ford said. He turned a chair around and straddled it. “Working on a personal project and totally lost track of time. Stanley?”

“We were meeting here because you don’t like discussing the budget in the apartment because you’d get distracted with work.”

“Right,” he said. “I just have to talk to Rick about this project. Can you grab me a coffee?”

Stan glanced at the coffee Rick took before shrugging and agreeing. He could hear their voices amongst the crowd, but he couldn’t make out the words as he stood in line. Based on Ford’s research, he didn’t doubt that there was the possibility of other dimensions and life on other planets, but he wasn’t sure he bought that Rick had travelled to them. He oozed so much confidence that he found it hard to pin Rick’s motives down. If he had travelled to other planets, why was he back on this one going to some second-tier college?

Still, there was the drink he couldn’t pinpoint. And whatever Rick needed the spare parts for he wanted to keep a secret.

He ordered the coffee and went back to the table, hardly surprised to find Rick and Ford’s voices raised. Ford asked, “If you don’t intend to work on the project, why do you care what topic I pick?”

“Because if y-you pick something complicated and somehow pull it off, then I have to make a fucking effort or they’ll know I didn’t work on it.”

“Well it’s definitely not going to work if I have to do it all myself.”

“Perfect. So we agree,” Rick said.

“No, I’m not handing in something that doesn’t even work.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter. Y-you just have to show effort and theory. No one gives a shit if it works except me, because if it works then I have to make shit work for the rest of the year.”

Stan set Ford’s coffee in front of him as Ford asked Rick, “Why do you care so much?”

“Because I have about a million other projects I’d rather work on than some bullshit assignment for some bullshit school,” Rick said. “I’m sure you feel the same way. So why not pull something simple out of your ass so you can work on your own garbage?”

“If you’re such a genius why don’t you do it,” Ford said. With sarcasm he added, “I’m sure you can do it much faster than me.”

Rick sighed. “Y-you really want to play it like this?”

Ford smiled. “Sure.”

“Y-you know I’m just gonna hand in some half-assed project where the theory works out but the application doesn’t, right?”

Ford’s smile faded quickly. “Well, I’d prefer if the application-”

Rick made a noise of disgust and set his head down on the table. Stan asked, “Wouldn’t it go faster if you two worked together on something simple?”

Rick didn’t reply and Ford took a sip of his coffee. Ford said, “This is black.”

“I forgot,” Stan said. “I can-”

“No, I’ll do it.”

Ford took his coffee and walked off to the counter. From the tabletop, Rick chuckled. “Work together. Genius idea.”

“How did you get Ford to sign on to be your partner?”

“I complimented his presentation and said a few things that made it clear I understood what he was trying to do. Then he asked me.”

“So he didn’t know you intended that he do the project alone.”

Rick sat up and took another drink. “No fucking clue. Seems pretty intent we do it alone now though. How much of your coffee have you had?”

Stan shrugged and lifted the cup. “Maybe two-thirds.”

“Shit, y-you can hold your liquor.”

Stan grinned. “I have refined the few talents I have.”

“Bet I can drink you under the table.”

“Literally? Or figuratively?”

“Figuratively, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it ends up literally.”

Ford sat back down, stirring his coffee. “Stanley, we’ll have to talk about the budget another day.”

“Sure, but you haven’t pitched in your share of rent from this month or groceries last week.”

“I’ll pay it.”

“I can carry you again if you’re short on cash.”

Ford gave him a pleading look that suggested he didn’t want to discuss it in front of Rick. Stan shrugged and said, “See you later.”

“Yeah, y-you will,” Rick said. “Leaky butthole.”

“That’s it,” Stan said. “That’s the exact name.”

Rick laughed and put his head back on the table as Ford sighed.

*

Stan half-expected Rick to be a no-show, but throughout his shift he watched the door just in case. How much he wanted to hang out with Rick surprised him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a friend outside of Ford, and Rick seemed intent on not being Ford’s friend. He certainly pushed him away enough.

So he smiled when Rick finally came into the bar wearing a ripped black tank. A cigarette hung between his fingers. He squinted at the surroundings with a look of distaste before sitting near the middle of the bar. He wove Stan over.

“This place is a dump. Let’s go somewhere else.”

“I don’t work somewhere else,” Stan said.

“Right, you’re working,” Rick said, lighting his cigarette. “Do I have to tip you?”

“How about you give me a cigarette instead,” Stan said. “I can get away with giving you a few drinks on the house.”

“Yeah? Give me whatever tastes the least like shit.”

Stan held out his hand and Rick stared at it for a minute. He then took the cigarette out of his mouth and put it between Stan’s lips. “There. Already lit.”

Stan took in a drag as he walked away to serve two others. Rick watched absently. He leaned on the bar as Stan talked to the two other men. They both ordered something called “Stan’s special,” and Rick raised a brow with interest. The two men did their shots and then handed Stan a few bills before walking off. Stan shoved a few bills into his pocket and the rest into the register.

He poured a glass of beer and slid it over to Rick. Rick caught it and said, “Hey, how about one of your specials?”

“You don’t want one of those.”

“Sure I fucking do,” Rick said. “I’ll buy you one.”

“Come on.”

Rick put down the same amount of bills the other two men paid and Stan hesitated a moment before taking the money. Rick watched the same routine. More than half into Stan’s pocket. The rest into the register. This time he watched Stan make the shots instead of watching the men. 

Stan slid him the shot glass and Rick took it quickly. He winced at the taste and slid the glass back at Stan. He noticed Stan managed to hide his wince. Rick said, “Y-you’re mixing a couple of the cheapest shit in this place and pocketing the difference.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s pretty fucking smart. Your boss know?”

“Doesn’t really give a shit,” Stan said. “I get away with a lot in this place. They sometime use me as a bouncer, so I even get to justify picking fights with strangers.”

Rick asked, “So how do y-you get people to drink this shit?”

“Pretended to love it. Pretended the bitterness was for the weak,” Stan said. “A lot of chest pounding was involved.”

“Yeah, well, now you owe me.”

“Want your cigarette back?”

“I was going to say my money, but no, give it here,” Rick said.

He reached over to take the cigarette from Stan’s mouth, but Stan stepped back from his reach and took another drag with a smile. He blew out smoke as he handed the cigarette back. “Can you do any tricks?” Rick asked.

“What, you mean like fetch?”

“Smoke rings. Y-you know, that kind of shit.”

“Yeah, I can do rings. Hold on a sec.”

Rick leaned back on the stool as Stan went to serve other customers. He was itching for entertainment, and Stan’s attention being drawn away was an extra annoyance. He watched as a band set up on a small stage. He figured the music would be a loud shitty, not a loud shitty that it didn’t matter what it sounded like, but the loud shitty that meant he wouldn’t be able to hear Stan.

When Stan came back, he said, “Give me the cigarette. I’ll blow some smoke rings.”

“No,” Rick said. “You said you can start fights here?”

“Yeah. I mean if it looks like someone is going to get out of hand, I can push him over the edge and it doesn’t matter.”

“So if I get someone to pick a fight with me, I get to watch you kick his ass.”

“If it looks like you’re the victim. Otherwise I’ll have to kick your ass.”

“Like you could.”

“Oh please, I could wrap my entire hand around your bicep,” Stan said. “You’re all bone.”

“Yeah? Y-you really think you could kick my ass?” Rick asked.

“I don’t want to,” Stan said, “but, I mean, if it came to it and you didn’t have secret science devices, for sure I could. Don’t get me wrong, you would put up a fight, but I’d win.”

Rick leaned on the bar and pointed at Stan as he said, “Now I think I should pick a fight with y-you instead of some random asshole.”

“If you’re that desperate to be put in a headlock, you could just ask,” Stan said with a smirk.

His eyes drifted off to watch more customers walk in. Rick made a noise of frustration as Stan excused himself again. He rested his head down on the bar and briefly wondered why Stan couldn’t give him his full attention while at his workplace. He ran a hand through his hair and then rested his head on the bar. He blew smoke rings into the air while he waited.

When Stan came back, he asked, “So what did you and Ford decide?”

“We’re working together like fucking chumps,” Rick said. Stan tried to put his finger through one of Rick’s smoke rings and dispersed it. Rick continued, “So if I start a fight for you, what can we do to make it more interesting?”

“You need it to be more interesting?”

“I bet I could steal the asshole’s wallet.”

“Yeah? I bet you could too,” Stan said. “You look like you have nimble fingers.”

“Y-you’re not going to believe how nimble,” Rick said, offering a grin that was more of a leer than anything. Stan swallowed, surprised at the heat that lingered in his cheeks. Rick continued, “I’m going to steal his wallet anyway. Anyone in here you don’t like?”

“No, but there’s no one in here I do like.”

“All right. Come to my rescue if I look like I’m in trouble.”

“You already look like you’re in trouble.”

“That’s why I’m here instead of jerking off in my apartment,” Rick said. He took out his cigarette and put it in Stan’s mouth. “Finish this off for me.”

Stan took a drag from the cigarette as he watched Rick scope out the crowd. He served a few more drinks and smiled to himself as he snuffed out the cigarette. He liked that Rick wanted to keep things interesting, and the prospect of fighting someone for him was already exciting, especially since he was being paid for it.

When he saw Rick talking to someone, he kept his eye on him. He needed the man to take a swing, but he didn’t want a blow to land. He was pretty much positive Rick could take a punch, but he wanted to catch the fist and show Rick what he could do. The music started to build from the band, and he noticed the man start to walk away from Rick. Rick shouted something after him, and that’s when the man turned around.

Jumping over the bar, Stan rushed towards them. He saw the man’s fist rise, but instead of catching it in his palm, Stan caught it on his chin. He could hear the man trying to apologize over the music, saying something about only wanting to talk to Rick outside. Rick’s hand traced along his back before he draped it over Stan’s shoulder. Rick’s chin rested on his other shoulder, and Stan hardly had to look at him to know he was making faces at the other man.

He loved it.

“You don’t fight in the bar,” Stan said.

“Yeah, yeah. I’d like that asshole to come outside with me.”

“Well, this is my asshole, and I don’t want it getting fucked.”

He noticed the man’s posture change. He wasn’t going to throw another punch, and Stan was surprised at how disappointed he was. He had built a reputation that made everyone afraid to throw a punch on his watch, and now that he wanted one thrown, he couldn’t make it happen. 

Through gritted teeth, the man said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize he was your friend. He’s welcome to join us at the table if he still wants to play a round.”

“I’m fine,” Rick said.

Relief passed through Stan at Rick’s voice. Rick wasn’t disappointed there wasn’t a fight. The man walked away, and Rick squeezed his shoulder as they walked back to the bar. Rick’s arm stayed firm around him, and Stan could feel the other man’s wallet in Rick’s front pocket. “That was awesome,” Rick said. “He basically pissed his pants when he realized his punch hit you instead of me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Are y-you gonna need frozen peas or something on that chin?”

“It can take a few hits.”

“‘Cause I got peas. I can hook you up.”

Stan laughed and took his place back behind the bar. As Rick slid onto his stool, Stan asked, “Did you get the wallet?”

“Yeah,” Rick said, patting his pockets. “What? I thought I-”

Stan tossed it on the counter in front of Rick. Rick laughed and quickly pocketed it again. “Y-you stole it from me! Shit, I didn’t expect you to have nimble fingers too.”

“I’m usually a bit blunter than that, but I’ve had some practice.”

“I didn’t even feel it,” Rick said. “What time does y-your shift end? We should go to another bar and spend this asshole’s money.”

“I’m here until 2. Maybe another night?”

“Christ, when do you live? Do you ever get a night off?”

“Not really.”

“What’s the deal with you and your brother?

“It’s not really something I want to shout about in a loud bar.”

Rick took out a pack of cigarettes and lit another. He offered it to Stan, who accepted. Rick noticed Stan was slower to excuse himself to help the next set of customers. He watched the red mark on Stan’s chin. He sat with Ford in class because he thought he could use him for notes and group assignments. He wasn’t so unintelligent that he’d have to do a lot of work himself, but the work Ford would do would be a dumbed-down reflection of his own knowledge. It was half-decent camouflage while he raided the labs for materials he needed for personal projects.

And the fact that Ford was easy on the eyes helped. He just wished he’d shut up half the time or loosen up. And now he’d found Stan. Already used to being around someone who was smarter than him. Already loose. Even his looks were a bit more to his tastes. A bit more muscular. A bit bulkier in the gut. 

And he was hardly useless. The entertainment he could provide was enough on its own, but he clearly had at least a basic grasp on mechanics and the security he offered was a comfort. Sure, Rick could take care of himself, but it never hurt to have extra muscle on your side. Plus, it was good to drink with someone who could really hold his alcohol.

So when Stan came back, Rick asked, “Yeah, but is it something y-you’d want to tell me sometime? No pressure man. Shit’s shit, and I usually prefer to keep my nose out of it.”

Stan rubbed the back of his head, and Rick thought for a minute some of the confidence had been sucked out of him. As much as Stan liked Rick from his brief time with him, he hardly considered him confidant material. Even if he wanted to open up with him, he thought Rick would just laugh at him and call him an idiot. Or, worse, he’d call Ford an asshole.

“Yeah, it’s just shit.”

Rick leaned forward. “But it’s y-your shit. And listen - yeah - listen, you called me your asshole. I process your shit.”

“That doesn’t sound right.”

“Who-who the fuck cares,” Rick said. “Fine, don’t tell me.”

“Still want to go for drinks some other night though?”

“Yeah, I guess. When can you take me to the junkyard?”

“Done at 5 tomorrow. Classes?”

“Shit, I think I’m working with your brother until 7.”

“I can call ahead and make sure they stay open until 9,” Stan said. “I’ll hang out at the apartment and we can either head out at 7 or convince Ford to take a break at 7 so we can do our thing.”

“So y-you don’t work here tomorrow?”

“Nope.”

Rick grinned. “So we can get wrecked.” 

“Yeah, sure. I work in the morning, but I’ve gone in with bad hangovers before.”

“Awesome. I’m gonna take a piss.”

Stan watched as Rick weaved his way to the restrooms. As he served the customers, he thought of Rick’s arm draped across his shoulders. He already looked forward to spending time with him tomorrow. He wanted to show off what he was like when he wasn’t trying to be professional. When he saw Rick headed back towards the bar, he smiled to himself. Things weren’t the same with Ford, and in Rick he saw the potential of someone he could just be himself around.

*

“Ley?”

“Yeah,” Stan said. “I brought pizza.”

“Fuck yeah,” Rick said. Stan could hear the chair slide against the ground as Rick scrambled to get up. “Hit me with a slice.”

“Can I at least finish my thought?” Ford asked.

Rick appeared around the corner as Stan kicked off his shoes. Rick opened the pizza box in Stan’s hand and started to eat a slice. With his mouth full, he asked, “Work sucked?” 

Stan shrugged. “It’s work. I’ve had worse days.”

The pair walked into the kitchen, and Stan found the kitchen table strewn with papers. Rick hopped up on the counter as Stan grabbed a slice for himself. “How’s this going?” Stan asked.

“It’d be going faster if Ford did it himself.”

“You wanted to give your input,” Ford said.

“I said you were an asshole. There’s my input.”

“I’m not dumbing down my work for you,” Ford said, sharply.

“Listen, y-you and I both know we’re way beyond the shit they’re teaching us. Why do you even care so much?” Rick asked.

Ford muttered under his breath, but Rick didn’t bother asking him to repeat it. Rick started on another slice, and Stan said, “What topic did you decide on?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ford said.

“Just trying to make small talk,” Stan replied.

“Why don’t you take Rick for that drive? Give me a few moments peace and maybe I can figure this out without him insulting me every other word.”

“That seems like an exaggeration,” Rick said. “Maybe every fourth word.”

Ford didn’t look in their direction as he said, “Just take him.”

Stan shrugged. “All right. Do you want us to come back when we’re done or-?”

“Honestly, I don’t care Ley. Just go.”

Rick stacked up a few slices of pizza and Stan took another as they left the apartment. Stan asked, “So it’s not going well?”

“Who gives a shit,” Rick said. “I just wanted to snoop through your apartment. Got stuck with your parents’ old furniture?”

“Yeah,” Stan said. “I bought a new bed. Ford took the one from his room, but I wanted something bigger, you know?”

“In case y-you got laid you mean,” Rick said, slapping him on the back with greasy fingers.

“I just got sick of the double.”

“Which means you haven’t gotten laid. What’s the problem? You don’t strike me as the shy type.”

“I’m not saying I haven’t gotten laid. I’m just saying I share a wall with my brother’s room so I’m not exactly eager to bring someone home.”

They drove to the junkyard first while they finished their pizza. Rick wouldn’t disclose what he was building as he and Stan grabbed parts he needed. Stan told Rick about the car he was fixing up and grabbed a few parts for himself. Rick asked him a lot of questions about his car, and Stan beamed as he described the process to him.

Rick seemed impressed - at least, more impressed than his brother - and mentioned he wanted to see it. Stan said, “Sometime,” and they decided to stop at a bar. 

Rick gave him a gold-coloured pill that was some kind of alien drug to help them get drunk faster. After a few drinks, Stan found himself slurring his words and eager to start a fight. Rick picked out two guys and managed to goad them into a fight outside. Rick said, “Just make sure they don’t knock out my teeth. I can’t get them fixed while I’m stuck on this shithole planet.”

“Sure,” Stan said.

When the one man swung at Rick, Stan blocked the blow and fought both of them with Rick laughing on the sidelines. Rick had to pull him away, and Stan was surprised at the blood he found on his knuckles. Rick put Stan in the passenger side of the truck and took him to his storage unit where he wanted to drop off the salvage. Stan found himself sobering up on the trip. He wiped his knuckles on his shirt. He wasn’t usually one who lost his grip when he was drunk, and it unnerved him.

“Here it is,” Rick said, turning on the storage unit’s light. “It’s just parts right now, but I mean, it’ll be fucking something when it’s done.”

Stan set down the piece of salvage he was carrying and looked around at the mess of parts scattered around the room. A bulletin board hung on one wall, and the various plans for construction hung on it. “It’s a spaceship?”

“Yeah. Crashed my last one on earth. My landings need work when I’m high,” Rick said. “Thought I’d just start fresh.”

Rick put his hands in his pockets and stared at his plans. Stumbling slightly, Stan started to unload the salvage for him, and Rick joined him shortly. “So you’ve been out there? On other planets and shit?”

“Yeah,” Rick said. “I have a fucking band out there. They’re too cheap to come get me, I guess. They better not be playing without me.”

“Really? What do you play?”

“Vocals mostly.”

Stan laughed. “I can’t picture that.”

“We’re really good, all right?” Rick said. “So y-you’re just gonna accept that I’m building a spaceship?”

“Yeah,” Stan said, setting down the last piece of salvage. He shut the door and dropped to the ground. “I’ve seen some of the shit Ford’s done. I’d believe it.” He noticed a torn-up seat in the center of the room. “I can order in a better seat for you,” Stan said.

“I like seeing what I can do with just garbage like this,” Rick said, back staring at his plans. “It’s more interesting working within limitations.”

“Yeah, but if you’re going to be sitting for hours, don’t you want to sit on something a bit comfortable?”

“This one’s worn in. I like it,” Rick said, dropping onto it. “I’ll let y-you know if it catches fire before I finish though. Wanna try something cool?”

“Sure,” Stan said.

“Come here.”

“You only have one shitty chair,” Stan said.

Rick sighed and moved to sit down next to Stan on the ground. He pulled a small jar out of his pocket and handed it to Stan. Stan held it up, looking at the small purple flakes filling the jar. “Do you just carry alien drugs with you wherever you go?” he asked.

“Not like I’m going to get arrested for it,” Rick said. “Listen, I roll this up into a joint, and then I inhale and exhale it onto you. It’s during my exhale that you’ll get high.”

“What?”

“Yeah, something about the way it reacts to the way y-you breathe it - listen you don’t want to hear that shit. Your brother would probably like the sound of it more than the high.”

“What’s it do?” Stan asked, handing the jar back to Rick.

“It’s a strong hallucinogen,” Rick said. “Like, very strong. Like, y-you’ll think it’s happening strong. I’ve done it so many times that I’ll be able to keep an eye on you though, don’t worry. And I’ll lock the door so we can’t wander off. You in?”

“Yeah,” Stan said. “What do you need me to do?”

Rick got up, locked the door, and stood up at his desk as he rolled the dust into a joint. He sat down next to Stan, his leg pressing up against Stan’s. “Breathe in when I breathe out, all right?”

Stan nodded, and Rick lit it. Rick added, “And think happy thoughts, all right?” 

He breathed in and lightly touched Stan’s chin to draw him closer. Purple smoke curled out of his mouth, and when Stan breathed it in, he almost brushed his lips against Rick’s. Rick handed him the joint, and he followed suit. He breathed in and then breathed out close to Rick. They repeated the motion a few more times, and things grew blurry for Stan. He thought he might have kissed Rick. He wasn’t sure if it was real or not. Rick’s arms around him, their noses close together as their lips brushed together.

Rick pushed him away, a slur falling out from his lips. Stan got up and left. When he left the storage unit, he turned around to see his father slamming the door on his childhood home. Kicking him out. He took his car and he felt himself driving away from his childhood home. Tears stinging his eyes. He tried to fix it. He told them he had tried to fix it. Why did they all hate him? He supposed he gave them every reason to expect nothing from him. And his relationship with Ford seemed like it’d never be repaired.

He parked the car at the dock. He could see the boat they were fixing together through the windshield. Had it been raining? It was raining now. How was he supposed to get on his life without Ford? And what would Ford do without him? A sail without a vehicle. A boat without direction. They were meant to be together.

He tried to fix it.

“Stan.”

He opened the car door and threw up on the pavement. He blinked and it was gone. When he blinked again it was back. The stench of vomit started to overwhelm the smell of rain on pavement. The sound of rain pounding against the windshield dissolved into Rick’s laughter.

Rick’s hand was on his shoulder, helping him out of the storage unit. “Y-you’re having a shit high, man,” Rick said. “Fuck, I thought you’d be better at this.”

The fresh air was as if he’d jumped into the ocean that night. He breathed it in.

“Deep slow breaths,” Rick said.

Stan realized he was on his knees. Rick rubbed his shoulder, trying not to laugh. He breathed in the air again. Everything started to clear around him. The storage units surrounding them. His truck parked in front of them. The sliver of light from Rick’s storage unit highlighting beside him. He rubbed his face. It was wet. He thought it might be tears.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Stan said. “Fuck.”

“It happens,” Rick said.

Stan’s smile was sheepish. His stomach turned. He wanted to throw up again as shame brought heat to his cheeks. He was completely humiliated. Crying. Throwing up. How much had he said aloud? He sat down on the ground.

“Christ, we were having a great night.”

“I’m still having a great night,” Rick said. “Y-you beat the shit out of two assholes. We got drunk. We tried some alien drugs that made you cry so hard you threw up. I consider this a success story.”

Stan didn’t reply and wiped his lower lip with his hand before wiping his hand on his pants. Rick sat down next to him and loosely draped his arm across his shoulders. “Stanley, tonight was a fucking blast.”

“Maybe for you.”

“So, what, y-you’re embarrassed?”

“Hell yeah, I’m embarrassed,” Stan said, sharper than he intended.

“Why?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Stan, y-you beat the shit out of two guys for kicks. You think because you had a bad high and started to cry I’m going to think you’re weak? Y-you really think I’m that fucking shallow?”

Stan smiled weakly. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Well, I’m not that shallow. And y-you’re clearly going through shit you don’t want to talk about, and let’s be honest I don’t usually give a shit so don’t tell me. Whatever’s happening you’ve kept inside, and that’s fine. And when it comes out like this, that’s fine too, all right? I’m the last asshole in the galaxy that’s going to care.”

Rick squeezed Stan’s shoulders, and more anxiety bubbled inside of him. He wanted Rick. He wanted their lips to touch. He loved every second Rick kept his arm around him. But he didn’t want to fuck things up. Especially not now. Rick had seen him vulnerable and weak, and he still stood by him.

He couldn’t lose that.

He always tended to act without thinking, but since he fucked up things with Ford, he tried to take the future into consideration. If he couldn’t patch up things with Ford, he didn’t want to be friendless. 

“Y-you all right?” Rick asked.

“How long is this going to take to pass?” Stan asked.

“The hallucinations should be gone,” Rick said. “Y-you might feel whatever you were feeling for a few hours. Creeping dread. Sorrow. Whatever. In my defence, I did say think happy thoughts.”

Stan chuckled. “Easier said than done. I don’t blame you.”

“I would have been pissed if you did.”

Stan lightly leaned into Rick’s touch, and Rick grinned. Rick had hoped that he’d get laid at the end of the night, but this, this was fine. Wouldn’t be the first time he cleaned vomit out of his storage unit, and he liked seeing Stan with the increasingly swollen black eye and split lower lip. Just a little bit of fear creeped into him when Stan’s sobs and shouts broke through his own high. For a second he thought Stan had reacted badly to the drug, but when the fresh air cleaned things up, he relaxed.

He liked that Stan would rather vomit and cry than expel his feelings. He understood that. He respected it and if it was anyone else, he’d rather not hear it anyway. But he wanted to know what shit had gone down between Stan and Ford. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to know. If they’d had been the same person, they’d probably be closer to him than anyone else he’d met, but Stan was the favourite parts of himself while Ford was a fading shadow of his own intelligence. Maybe he’d have hated them if they had been one person. It didn’t fucking matter. None of it did. He liked Stan, and he wanted to know more about what happened between them, for whatever reason.

The high Stan had interrupted had been a brief sexual one. Stan had lifted him up and pinned him against the wall, sucking him off with his legs draped over his shoulders. But sitting with Stan like this now, this was fine. Stan’s arm loosely wrapped around his back.

Rick asked, “Should I take you home? You’re working tomorrow, right?”

“Christ, I don’t want to face Ford like this.”

“Y-you can crash with me.”

“No, no,” Stan said. He pulled his arm away from Rick to wipe his face again. “My uniform is at home and it’s probably better if I wake up in my own place. I feel like I’m sinking though. Is that right?”

“You’ll sleep it off.”

“What time is it?”

“Two-thirty.”

“I’m working in a couple of hours,” Stan said. “Yeah, do you mind driving me home? I’m really tired. Do you still have your flask on you? Can I get a nightcap?”

Rick handed Stan his flask as he helped him off the ground. Stan handed Rick the keys to his truck, and he took a swig from the flask as he dropped into the passenger seat. He dozed off against the window as Rick started to drive. When they arrived back at the apartment, Rick shook his arm to wake him up. When Stan grumbled and turned over in the seat, Rick considered leaving him.

He pinched his arm, and Stan’s eyes shot open. “Come on, get up.”

Stan took another swig from Rick’s flask before handing it back to him. Stan draped his arm across Rick’s shoulders as Rick helped him back into the apartment. Ford was still working at the kitchen table and stood up as Rick helped Stan in.

“What happened to him?” Ford asked.

“Fuck off,” Stan said. “Go to bed for once.”

“He looks like he got hit by a truck,” Ford said.

Rick kicked open the door to Stan’s bedroom and helped him into it. Stan sat down on the bed and took off his shoes while Rick quickly glanced around his room. No posters. A pile of dirty laundry on the floor. A separate pile of laundry - maybe clean? A stack of comic books. One dirty magazine poking out from under the bed.

“Thanks Rick,” Stan said, curling up on the bed. “I owe you one.”

“Yeah, all right.”

Rick turned around to see Ford standing in the bedroom doorway with a heavy frown on his face. He pushed Ford out of the room and closed the door. “What happened?” Ford asked.

“We got drunk. Got into a fight. Got high. Yeah.”

“Are you still high?”

“A bit,” Rick said. “Happy mostly. Stan - or Ley, whatever, went the other way.”

“So is his face from the fight or did he hurt himself?”

“The fight,” Rick said. “He’ll be fine.”

“He starts work at 5. Did he tell you that?”

“No,” Rick said. “He didn’t sound concerned.”

“Ley’s never concerned,” Ford said. “God forbid he thinks even a few hours ahead.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Rick asked. “He has your entire budget planned out.”

“I realize you think you know everything Rick, but you don’t. I’m going to call in sick for Ley. There’s no way he’ll be in any shape to work.”

“He’ll be mad.”

“Let him,” Ford said. “I’m not going to let him get fired because he’s eager to impress some jerk.”

“Yeah, speaking of that, how’s the project going?”

Ford hesitated. “I got distracted and started working on something else.”

“Can I check it out?”

“Be my guest.”

*

When Stan awoke, he heard Rick and Ford talking. He rolled over to see the clock reading almost noon. “Fuck.”

He stumbled out of bed and then heard a knock on the door. Ford said, “You’ve got the day off. Go back to bed.”

“Did Rick go home?”

Ford said, “No, we’ve been working all night. Go back to bed.”

Stan stepped out and noticed the papers now covered the kitchen counters and some of the floor. “I’m fine,” Stan said. “I think I’ll grab a bite and see if they need me.”

“I called in. It’s fine,” Ford said.

“Yeah, well, I’m not going to fuck around here all day.”

He showered and grabbed breakfast on the way. He took the truck with the spare parts he salvaged to work. His boss at the repair shop found his bruised face hilarious, and he assured him he simply switched his shifts and he wasn’t needed. Stan took the time to work on his car and was in range if they needed an extra hand at the last minute.

He worked some time past five. While he worked underneath the car, someone kicked his foot. As he slid out from underneath, he found Rick hovering over him. “Ford said you’d be here. Working?”

“Oh no. This is the car I was telling you about yesterday.”

“Yeah? The shithole y-you were trying to fix?”

“Yeah.”

“Doesn’t look like a shithole to me,” Rick said. “You’ve fixed up a lot. New seats?”

“Yep. I ordered them in special.”

“Really roomy,” Rick said. “Are y-you making a fuckpad since you can’t fuck anyone in your room?”

“Yep.”

“When will it be done?”

“I’m getting close,” Stan said. “Depends on how much free time I have. Ford making you check in on me?”

“No, we’re taking a break and I’m going home to sleep for a couple of hours. I just wanted to, you know.”

Stan stood up and wiped some grease onto his pants. “I don’t know.”

Rick watched him as Stan gracefully smelled under his arm. His eye was swollen shut and the cut on his lip looked sore. He remembered what it looked like when blood drizzled from his nose. He remembered how satisfying it was when Stan wiped his bloody knuckles off on his shirt like it was nothing.

“Eye looks like it hurts.”

“It’s fine,” Stan said. “Some of the guys here have been putting ice on it. I just can’t wear it when I’m under the car. Last night was fun, don’t worry.”

“Y-you’re good?”

“Yeah,” Stan said. “I’m good. We still haven’t had a drinking contest, so we’ve gotta do that.”

“And it’d be nice to get into a fight where I actually take a swing.”

“I thought you were more about strategical strikes. Like starting something and directing me to finish it,” Stan said, smirking and folding his arms across his chest.

“Hey, hey, I can hold my own,” Rick said. “See, I’m going to have to fucking prove it to you.”

“Yeah, I wanna see it with my own eyes,” Stan said. “Maybe next time you can take down two guys and I’ll hide behind you.”

“I wasn’t hiding.”

“Sure.”

“Besides, y-you’re too big to hide behind me,” Rick said. “I figure whenever we start a fight, you’re too big for them to even see me.”

“Come on, you’re skinny, but you’re still a tower. Besides, your mouth more than makes up for what you lack in muscle.”

“I don’t lack muscle,” Rick said. “I lack, you know,” he motioned towards Stan’s stomach. “Y-you know.”

“Exercise? Abs? Determination? A soul?”

“Fat!”

“It’s not fat.”

“It’s fat,” Rick said. “Come on.”

“Just because it’s not defined, it doesn’t mean there’s no muscle,” Stan said. “Punch me in the gut, I dare you.”

“If I punch that thing, my hand is going to get sucked in and Ford’ll realize there’s a path to another dimension through your fat.”

“I can’t believe this,” Stan said, smirking. “You’re scared to punch me.”

Rick gasped - mostly for dramatics. “How fucking dare y-you. You’re trying to provoke me.”

“Are you still drunk?”

“When am I not drunk?” Rick asked. “I’m not punching y-you because I don’t have my travel pack with me. If I don’t have the right papers they might arrest me.”

“You’re still saying my stomach takes you to a different dimension.”

“Listen, I know my portals and that stomach is one.”

Stan rolled his eyes and dropped back onto his dolly. “I’m going to go back to work,” Stan said.

“Oh yeah, Ford wants you to go home.”

Stan cursed under his breath. “I don’t want to wade through papers.”

“I dunno man. Y-you could come hang out at my place instead.”

“Weren’t you going to try to sleep?”

“Yeah, but I mean, I have shit y-you can do there. You like comics, right?”

Stan hesitated. “Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair, smearing grease across his forehead. “I better go back. He probably wants to yell at me.”

“I don’t know why you take it.”

“I’ll take a rain check? It’d be cool to see your place,” Stan said.

“Sure, all right. I meant to ask, do you have a gym you go to or something?”

“Yeah, it’s a shitty 24 hour one. Sometimes after work I just want to unwind, and it’s dead at 2am. Why? Want to put some muscle on your gut?”

“I want to see whether or not y-you actually try to fight off that fat,” Rick said. “Maybe you just spend too much time on your arms and legs.”

Stan grabbed a cloth and wiped his hands on it. “Well, now you’re not getting an invite. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, all right.”

Stan returned home without picking up any food, and when he found Ford still going over the papers, he tried to slink back into his room. Ford said, “Hold on a second.”

“Rick said you wanted me home.”

“What were you thinking last night?”

Stan sighed and said, “I wanted to have a good time, all right? We went a little overboard, sure, but-”

“Fights, drunk, and high? Did you really need all three?”

“Kind of, yeah,” Stan said. “We were having a good time.”

“You weren’t well when Rick brought you back, Ley,” Ford said. “There was blood and vomit, and you just didn’t look right.”

“It was a bad high. Rick got me through it. Don’t worry about it.”

Stan started to go back into his room, but he hesitated and stepped back out. “Say what you want to say, Ford.”

Ford rubbed his temples and then said, “Is this really how you want to spend your time?”

“I’m working a full-time job and a part-time job. Most of my free time is spent either driving you around or giving you a hand with God-knows-what. I finally make a friend and - what - I’m not allowed to let loose?”

“I’m just worried-”

“Worried because my world doesn’t revolve around you, right?” Stan said. “Yeah, I came to help you with everything, but you barely look away from your work. You said-”

“Don’t bring up the boat again-”

“-You just said we’d spend time together, that’s all. I didn’t realize your idea of spending time together was bossing me around about shit I don’t care about.”

“So what, you want me to get drunk and high with you and Sanchez?”

“No,” he replied. “Honestly, I think you’d be bad at it. I’m just saying, I don’t know, we could go to the drive-in. Or go bowling. Or, I don’t know, sit around and talk.”

“About what?”

“Ford, I’m tired. I’m going to go shower and read for a while.”

“All right.”

“Rick went to sleep. You might want to consider that too.”

“Maybe. I think I’m close to a breakthrough.”

“All right, well you’ll know where I’ll be if you need me.”

“Yep.”

*

Stan read on the couch while Rick and Ford worked at the kitchen table. Rick kept his head propped up with his hand as he watched Stan read. The cover of the book had some illustration of a man who had hung himself, and he appreciated that Stan didn’t shy away from gruesome art. He cleaned the inside of his ear helix with the end of his pencil as he watched Stan’s chest rise and fall. His shirt had risen up. It exposed part of his stomach and a thick treasure trail.

He shifted in his seat and openly stared at the way Stan’s jeans bunched up at his crotch. Both of the twins were too involved in their own topics to notice. Rick wondered if he could just flat-out ask to blow him. Would it change things?

They’d already had their drinking contest - he won, of course. He was already used to ingesting alien liquors, which he was running low on. He’d have to get off this planet again soon. Either way, Stan held his own for a while. And the pair stumbled into the night together, keeping each other upright.

Ford had tried to lecture them when they got home, but Stan pushed Rick into his room and closed the door. Rick thought Stan was going to fuck him right there, but instead Stan just dropped into bed without any explanation. Rick shoved him and invited himself into the bed, and he fell asleep listening to Stan’s snores.

He looked away as he thought about when they went to the gym. Rick mostly just watched Stan work out, and he found the sweat rolling off of Stan and the grunts he made extremely titillating. When Rick got bored of having a hard-on and nothing to do, he went and fucked some guy in the locker room. Still, it was Stan’s grunts as he lifted weights that lingered in his mind. Part of him just wanted to jump him. The other part wanted to tread with caution. He burned his bridges on earth the last time he left, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to do it again. He doubted Stan would be mad if he left for months or even years, and then he’d always have a place to crash at.

Rick let out a groan and rested his head on the table. “I’m so bored.”

“We’re not here to entertain you,” Ford said.

They’d already submitted their assignment. To Rick’s frustration, the Professor put it forward to be entered into some contest, and to make matters worse, he was now stuck with Ford as a partner because the Professor thought they worked well together. Even in the other classes they had together, they got paired up. He didn’t mind the excuse to see Stan, but Ford always seemed to be working on something, and nothing that interested Rick. At least, nothing he claimed to be interested in, but Stan noticed how often Ford’s work sucked him in, if only so Rick could brag about how far advanced he was.

He had said to Stan a few days ago: “It’s like watching someone’s kid draw with crayons when you’re an artist. It’s cute, and maybe you see some potential, but it’s really not worth your time.”

“Stanley, I’m bored,” Rick said.

Stan let out a grunt.

“Can we go do something?”

“Like what?”

“Drive-in’s doing a creature double feature,” Rick said. “We could bring a couple of beers with us. They’re not sticklers about it yet.”

Stan looked away from his comic. “I finished the car. We could take that.”

“All right, Maiden Voyage!” Rick said, slamming his hands on the table. “We should do something more exciting than a drive-in for the Maiden Voyage.”

“I don’t want it destroyed or smelling like vomit, so yeah, the drive-in is a good first trip.”

“And at least it’s not a long drive in case it breaks down,” Ford said.

“It’s not going to break down,” Stan said. “I’ve tested it.”

“I’m just saying-”

Stan sat up. “You’re just saying you don’t trust me to actually know what I’m doing.”

“We all make mistakes.”

“Let’s just go,” Stan said. “Come on, Rick.”

Ford stood up quickly and said, “Wait.” Both Rick and Stan half-expected an apology, but he said, “Can I tag along?”

“Don’t y-you want to stay here and, you know, work on your shit?” Rick asked. “We’re talking about four hours of bad monster movies.”

“Stanley?” Ford asked.

Stan cursed under his breath. He said he’d wanted to spend more time with him, but he mostly just wanted to get drunk in his car and hope Rick would put his arm around him. Still, felt like a dick move to turn him down now. “All right. Come on.”

They left and stood around Stan’s car in the parking lot. “Fucking good paint job,” Rick said. “Looked like shit before.”

“The black makes it look a bit like a hearse,” Ford said.

“I picked black,” Rick said, nudging Stan in the ribs. “He wanted mint green.”

“Black will be hot in the summer,” Ford said.

“His truck’s white,” Rick said. “It’ll even out.”

Ford asked, “You’re keeping the truck?”

“The truck helps with work,” Stan said, shrugging. “I can’t exactly move scrap with the car.”

“Wouldn’t it be smarter to sell it?” Ford asked.

Rick got into the car and sat in the passenger side. He hoped the whole trip wouldn’t be like this. But Stan and Ford argued while they drove there, and when Rick left to grab liquor from the gas station, they were still arguing when he got back. All Rick knew was Stan handled most of the finances, worked too much, and neither of them thought they had enough money. Ford didn’t like what he considered “needless spending”, though he’d often get Stan to pick him up expensive pieces of equipment. Stan’s spending was mostly repairing his car, beer, cigarettes, comics, and fast food. He couldn’t imagine any of it really made a notable dent.

“If y-you guys don’t stop I’m jumping out of the car,” Rick said. “I don’t give a shit about any of this.”

“So you don’t think it’s absurd that Ley would pile money into a vehicle we don’t even need?” Ford asked.

Rick lit a cigarette. “It’s his money,” he said. “As long as y-you’re making rent, who cares?”

Rick passed the cigarette to Stan and lit another one for himself. Ford rolled down the window in the backseat and watched outside. Stan watched him from the rear view mirror for a minute, and when he glanced at Rick, Rick offered him a wink. He smiled. They arrived at the drive-in, and Ford left to get popcorn for the group and some pop for himself. Stan and Rick opened their beers, and Stan slid down on the front seat’s bench so he wouldn’t have to sit behind the wheel the whole night. Rick leaned out the car window to put the speaker in the car and rolled up the window the best he could.

“Sorry for bringing Ford along,” Stan said. “We’d gotten into a fight a few weeks ago and I had said I wanted to spend more time with him-”

“Christ, why?”

“-and I mentioned going to the Drive-In. I’m not sure why he picked now.”

When Stan didn’t answer why, Rick said, “Well it’s not going to ruin my night.”

They put their feet on the dashboard and put an ashtray between them. “Shit, these seats are comfortable,” Rick said. “Think they’re nicer than my couch.”

When Ford returned, he handed them the popcorn and leaned forward in the backseat so he could be between them. “So what sort of monster movies are these?”

“I don’t know what movies they are,” Rick said. “Just that they’re monster movies. Either Claymation or, y-you know, an iguana next to a plastic soldier.”

“Could be a man in a suit stomping on tiny houses.”

“I like that,” Rick said. “I wonder how you get that job. I think I’d be good at it.”

Stan and Ford laughed, and Stan leaned back in the seat, blowing out smoke rings. They talked through the first movie, and, for once, Stan thought things were going back to normal. He remembered looking through comics with Ford and talking about the monsters and aliens. Maybe it was the beer, but the tension seemed to fade.

When the movie ended, Ford slid back in the seat. “I think I’m going to go back to work,” he said.

“What?” Stan asked. “Come on, stay. I’ll drive you home after.”

“I can take the bus or even walk. I got an idea and I want to go work on it,” Ford said. “I don’t think I have it in me to watch another right now anyway. They’re a bit juvenile.”

“See y-you later,” Rick said, eager to not start an argument.

“Yeah, all right,” Stan said.

He haphazardly waved as Ford left. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “We were having a good time, right?” Stan asked. “I’m barely even buzzed.”

“Yeah, it was fun,” Rick said, “but now the party can really start. Come on, we’re out of beer.”

He handed Stan his flask and Stan took a swig before handing it back. “Keep it,” Rick said. “I’ll be right back. Gonna piss.”

“All right.”

Stan watched as Rick left. The last time Rick excused himself to take a piss, Stan found him fucking some guy in the locker room. He wasn’t angry or even jealous. It gave him a spark of hope that he and Rick would hook up. He had planned to make a move tonight, but with Ford tagging along he chickened out. Now he wasn’t sure he still had it in him. He doubted Rick would be angry, but he wasn’t sure he could even take a polite turn-down.

The credits started to roll, and Stan leaned back in his seat. He took another swig from the flask, trying to decipher what it was. He wondered how Stan ended up with so much alien alcohol when he was stranded on earth. 

Rick hopped back in the car and put his arm around Stan. “The line-up was too big,” he said. “When I realized it was going to start, I pissed in a bush instead. Y-you know, contributing to nature and shit.”

“Sure,” Stan said, sliding a bit closer to Rick.

Rick’s fingers gently ran along his shoulder and he said, “Give me the flask back.”

Stan took another swig before handing it back to Rick. He slid his arm around Rick’s back as Rick loosened his grip, draping his arm around his neck instead. Stan became aware of every tiny movement. Rick’s leg pressed up against his own. His smallest finger was underneath Rick’s shirt, feeling his pelvis. Rick’s fingers brushed against his chest. His eyes watched the screen - a faint smile on his face. Stan watched him. The layer of stubble on his cheeks and chin, only thickening at his goatee. 

He could kiss him. It’d be easy.

“Wanna share a cig?” Rick asked.

“Nothing heavier?”

“After last time? No thanks,” Rick said, laughing. “Alien alcohol, yes, alien drugs, not for a while.”

“Not for me or not for you?”

“Not for you,” Rick said, laughing. “Come on, this is her maiden voyage. Do you really want to get vomit in her?”

“The seats clean easy,” Stan said. “What about human drugs?”

“Expensive and overrated,” Rick replied, flippantly. “Why, you got something?”

“No,” Stan said, laughing. “I have a guy-”

“Then let’s forget about it today. Come on, let’s just enjoy this shit movie and our-” Rick said something incomprehensible to Stan and handed him the flask again.

Stan took a swig as Rick took his arm off of him to light a cigarette. Stan worried he’d fucked things up, but Rick’s arm coiled back around him as he handed the cigarette to him. Stan took a drag from it and then snuffed it out in the ashtray. Rick said, “Hey-”

Stan kissed him - hard. He kept his arm around Rick while his other cupped his cheek. He parted Rick’s lips to kiss him deeper, and Rick twisted his fingers into his hair, extending the kiss. Stan breathed him in, and Rick straddled him. “Wait,” Stan said. “Back seat has more room.”

The pair fumbled over the seat, and Rick pushed Stan back against the seat to kiss him again. Rick took in the feeling of Stan’s stubble against his cheek, and the tentative way his hands moved across his hips. Rick was less careful. He tossed a small tube onto Stan’s chest and said, “Space lube. Fuck me into next weekend.”

“What?”

Rick moved lower on Stan’s torso and unbuttoned Stan’s jeans. Stan took a good look at the lube. The writing definitely wasn’t in any language he knew, and the image was of some many-armed, many-eyed creature coating his arms in it. Rick pulling his cock out of his boxers drew his attention away. “Y-your dick’s too big for this car.”

“Now you know why I needed to custom-make one,” Stan replied, his smile crooked.

Rick peeled off his own shirt and jeans before Stan even had the opportunity to take his skinny frame in. Straddling Stan’s board chest, Rick waved his thinner – and bent slightly to the left – cock. “Nothing to write home about,” Rick said, giving his cock a firm jerk.

Stan said, “I think if I wrote home about it, I’d be kicked out again.”

Rick wanted to ask about the first time, but his thoughts faded as Stan gently stroked his cock. He squirted some of the lube onto his fingers before pulling Rick’s hips closer to his face. Rick grabbed the lube from Stan, and Stan took Rick’s cock into his mouth before licking and sucking the head of it. He pressed a slick finger into Rick’s ass, and he found it eager and easy to slide into. Rick gripped Stan’s shaft to give it a firm jerk before letting his thumb simply tease the head of it. Stan sucked harder on Rick’s cock, taking more and more of it into his mouth. He pressed a second finger into Rick’s ass, quickly working the opening, almost desperate to pound into his ass instead.

Rick tightly gripped Stan’s hair, bucking roughly into his mouth. Rick jerked him off slowly while spreading lube across his shaft, teasing the edges of his foreskin with his thumb while fucking Stan’s mouth. Stan pressed a third finger into Rick’s ass, pumping them deep into him. Rick pulled Stan’s head against his thrusts while eagerly bucking back against his fingers. “Are y-you just stalling before you fuck me?” Rick asked.

Stan pulled his fingers out of his ass and pulled Rick back against his cock. Gripping Stan’s shaft, Rick edged Stan’s cock into his ass before taking it all into him with one hard buck. Stan almost groaned from the force alone, but he gritted his teeth. “Fuck yeah,” Rick gasped. “Finally a dick worth riding.”

Gripping Stan’s shoulders, Rick rode him hard and fast. Stan bucked up against his rhythm, hardly believing how good it felt to be pumping into Rick’s skinny ass. Stan took Rick’s cock into his hand, jerking him off at any excruciatingly slow pace while Rick rode him harder. He bucked up against Rick’s rhythm, slamming his cock deep into his ass. Rick’s jizz spilled onto Stan’s fingers, and Stan drew his hand away from his cock to lick his hand. “I don’t think you even need me to jerk you off,” Stan said, his voice even and steady.

“Fuck, yes I do,” Rick said. “Don’t stop.”

Stan gripped Rick’s hips with both hands and dug his short nails in as he pumped up into him. He was determined to make him come without touching his cock again. Rick groaned openly, gripping Stan’s shoulders as Stan took control of the pace. Stan listened to the sound of his car moving underneath their weight and rhythm. Rick rocked his hips back against Stan’s quick pace. Stan pumped into him harder while Rick’s groans grew louder. 

“Fuck, Stan,” Rick gasped. “Fuck me.”

Stan gritted his teeth as he pounded into him, feeling his own peak nearing. Rick’s cock oozed, but Stan surrendered and jerked him off with his free hand. Rick cursed and squirmed, shooting his load across Stan’s broad chest in an instant. “Oh fuck,” Rick gasped. “Don’t stop.”

Rick rode him rougher, consuming Stan’s pace to the point that his cock ached with the friction. Stan continued jerking off Rick to draw out his climax. Rick’s nails dug into his shoulders, and Stan gasped harshly as he came into Rick’s ass. Rick rode him until Stan was spent, and then he stretched out on Stan’s chest, despite the jizz on his shirt. Stan rubbed Rick’s back with one hand and licked his fingers with the other, but Rick pulled his hand away to kiss him again.

Spent and tired, the two stayed twined together. “What brought that on?” Rick asked. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“The night you came with me to the gym, I saw and I hadn’t realized-”

“Y-you didn’t know this was an option,” Rick said.

Stan laughed and nodded. “It didn’t strike me that you’d to hesitate,” he said. “I thought if you wanted me, you’d just have jumped me.”

“Honestly, I was planning to, but I don’t know, after y-you took a punch for me and scared off that guy – I guess I didn’t want to spook you. I mean, there was the chance y-you’d beat the shit out of me for even bringing it up, but even if you hadn’t, it wasn’t worth the risk. Not while I’m stuck here, anyway.”

“That’s why I didn’t come onto you.”

“Yeah?”

Rick laughed. “I guess we both kinda like each other.”

“Just a bit,” Stan said, cupping Rick’s ass.

“So this is going to be a regular thing, right?” Rick asked.

“Yeah, if you want me.”

“Come on, we’ve barely done anything. I fucking want y-you,” Rick said. “Can we fuck in your bed though? It’s huge and I want to try it out.”

“Sure.”

“You won’t make me be quiet either?”

Stan laughed. “No, be as loud as you want.”

“Y-you’re not worried about how Ford’ll react?”

Stan shrugged. “He’ll deal with it. I’d rather fuck you into the mattress than worry about him.”

“Do you need to pencil me in or-?”

“Anytime,” Stan said. “I mean it.”

“That’s what I like to fucking hear.”

The pair watched what remained of the movie from the backseat, sharing a cigarette. When the film ended, Stan drove them back to his apartment in a fuzzy daze. He hardly believed the night took this turn. He wouldn’t have believed it if Rick’s semen hadn’t been stuck to his shirt. 

Stan and Rick went back up to the apartment with their hands loosely hanging together. When they ended up in the apartment, Ford called to Rick. “Can you look over this for me?”

Stan dropped onto the couch with a drowsy smile as Rick started to look over his papers. He was surprised at how quickly Ford had grasped Rick’s interest, and he gave up listening as they debated over what material would best contain a portal. Rick theorized that they could support themselves, but Ford thought they would eventually wear down the fabric of the reality. Stan picked up his comic and started reading, finding his eyelids grow heavy.

“Hey, wake up,” Rick said, shaking Stan’s foot.

“Hey,” Stan replied, rubbing his eye. “Finally going to bed?”

“You’ve got to go to work,” Ford said. “Sorry, I should have woken you up so you could have slept in bed.”

“You two have been working all night?” he asked.

“More like worrying about something that will never happen,” Rick said to Ford sharply. “These portals can support themselves. They collapse, and the fabric of our dimension seamlessly replaces itself.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“I can guarantee that,” Rick said, shoving Ford over to draw a diagram.

Stan sighed and changed before heading to work. He wasn’t sure why he thought anything would be different now that they slept together. At least he still had some of Rick’s attention.

*

Stan stepped away from the car as his boss approached him. “Your friend’s here,” he said, “the one with the thing on his chin. You’re welcome to duck out early to hang out with him. There’s only fifteen minutes left on the clock and you’ve done enough for today.”

“Yeah?” Stan said.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks,” Stan replied with a grin.

He changed and washed up in the locker room and then moved into the waiting room. Rick flipped through a magazine and stood up when he saw him. “Hey,” he said. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

Stan motioned for him to leave. “Sorry about what part?”

Rick grinned and nudged him in the ribs. “Not that part,” he said. “About working with y-your brother for the night. We had plans and I blew you off. Just got caught up in everything I guess.”

“Am I hearing an apology from Rick Sanchez?” Stan asked, holding a hand to his ear. “Did I inhale too much gasoline?”

Rick shoved him. “I’m never being nice to you again.”

Stan grabbed his wrist and said, “How are you going to make it up to me?”

“I thought I’d show y-you to my place,” Rick said, pulling away and opening the door to Stan’s car. “I’ll drive.”

“Like hell I’m letting you drive my car.”

Rick motioned for the keys and after a moment’s hesitation Stan handed them over. He dropped into the passenger side as Rick pulled out into the street. Rick said, “My bed’s not really big enough to fuck on. I think we’d probably break it.”

“So then what are we doing at your place?”

“I just wanted to show you,” Rick said. “Fuck off.”

“Apologies and opening up? What’s going on?”

Rick sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Listen, I- I don’t like doing this shit, but, yeah, I know it pisses y-you off when your brother gets caught up in work and forgets about you. I just - I don’t want to be like him.”

“You’re worried that’s why we had a falling out.”

“No, I know you did something to fuck things up,” Rick said. “I’m not going to walk on eggshells around y-you. I’m just - shit, Stan. I’m just trying to be decent.”

“Have I done something to piss you off?”

“No,” Rick said, laughing. “You’re really not mad at me?”

“Maybe I was a bit disappointed,” Stan said, rubbing the back of his head. “If it happens a lot, yeah, I might get pissed, but one night? No. I was exhausted. I might not have been able to get it up. You know, we wouldn’t need to fuck in your bed.”

“Yeah? What are y-you suggesting?”

“Well I don’t know the layout of your apartment,” Stan said. “Is there a sofa or something?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Rick said. “Hey, are y-you running some kind of scam at the mechanic’s too?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your ‘Stan’s Special.’ Got something like that at the mechanic’s?”

“Yeah,” Stan said. “If they’re paying cash, I usually pitch something that doesn’t exist. An underside winter coating. Windshields that wipe off bugs better. Shit that people would never come back to complain about. Then I put that into my pocket. Just don’t spread that around. The bar looks the other way, but I’d definitely get fired for it there.”

“Y-you’re pretty good when it comes to that shit,” Rick said.

“I mean, it’d be easier if I could just figure out a good scam and doing that full time, but it’d require moving a lot, so it’s a legit job for me,” Stan said.

“You know, between you and me driving, we could always travel and run scams and then come back here,” Rick said. “It might require taking a vacation.”

“Maybe we’ll save it for if I lose one of my jobs,” Stan said. “Plus, Ford would ask questions about where the money is coming in. He likes paying our taxes.”

Rick scoffed.

Stan said, “Right?”

They chatted idly about the government until they reached Rick’s apartment. Stan found a bachelor apartment with a lab bench and plans push-pinned to the walls. A rickety-looking cot sat in the corner, and several textbooks were stacked on top of it. It was messy, but clean. That surprised him.

Rick opened a couple of beers while Stan looked over his plans. He realized they were for the spaceship he was building in the storage unit, but he was surprised at how many of the details he understood. As Rick handed him a beer, they discussed the ship’s engines and whether or not the exterior material would hold up.

Rick pushed some books off of the couch and sat down. When Stan followed suit, Rick draped his arm behind him. Rick said, “It just has to get me off the planet. First stop will be somewhere I can buy better materials and stronger fuel.”

“So what’s left?” Stan asked. “Looks like you’re making some serious progress.”

“Yeah I’d be done if I wasn’t too busy holding your brother’s hand,” Rick said.

“And my dick?”

“Please, that’s not slowing me down,” Rick said with a grin. It faded as he continued, “I came to this shitty college because they have a material I can easily convert into fuel.”

“Really? This shitty second-rate school is the only one with the material you need?”

Rick laughed. “No, it’s the only one that doesn’t have it well protected or secured. We can break in easy-peasy.”

“We?”

“Yeah. I thought it might be too much if there’re both of us, but I’m sure I could use the help.”

Stan hesitated. “If we’re caught, there might be blowback onto Ford.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Stan said. “What if we don’t get caught and someone takes a photo?”

“Listen, y-you and Ford hardly look the same,” Rick said. “At first glance, maybe, but if they took a closer look-”

“I can’t,” Stan said, standing up. “I really want to, but I can’t risk Ford’s future on this.”

Rick leaned forward and said, “Hey, it’s fine. Like I said, I can do it myself, no problem. Don’t stress out about it.”

“Really?”

“Honestly, I just thought it’d be something fun to do together,” Rick said, trying to pull Stan closer by the wrist. “But it’s not like we’re running out of fun things to do.”

Stan leaned towards with a smile as Rick pecked his lips. When Stan tried to kiss him deeper, Rick slid out of his grasp and moved towards the lab bench. He said, “I wasn’t expecting you to be able to read my plans.”

Stan laughed and hugged him from behind. “Ford never relied on me for it, and I preferred to cheat than learn, but I’m not stupid. If something’s shoved in your face long enough, you tend to get a basic grasp on it.”

“This isn’t a basic grasp-”

“It’s pretty basic,” Stan said. “I don’t understand half the stuff-”

“We’ve been talking about engines for twenty minutes,” Rick said. “I bet if I gave y-you all the materials and the blueprints, you could build it.”

“No way.”

“Well, whatever,” Rick said, pushing back against him. “I’m just trying to say you’re not stupid.”

“I’m glad someone thinks so.”

Rick kissed him and thought about how it’d be fun to stick around. He thought if he waited long enough Stan might run away with him instead of sticking around with Ford. Their relationship was tense at best, and Ford seemed to be doing a good enough job pushing him away on his own. If he found out what happened between them, he might be able to twist Stan onto his side. He thought about ordering a new seat for his spacecraft - something that could easily hold carry two people. Maybe something that folded out, or at least gave a bit more leg room.

Stan, meanwhile, just worried about when Rick took him flying for the first time. He doubted he’d be able to keep his fear of heights a secret. Would he still feel it once he saw earth as a speck on the horizon? Anxiety built inside of him. He thought of the nothingness of space and how Rick’s plans would be the only thing keeping him from death somewhere no one would find him. Ford would never know what happened to him.

Stan tightened his grip of Rick’s shirt, kissing him harder. He was afraid now, too. His relationship with Ford was already on the cliff’s edge. It just needed a push to separate them, and he hoped Rick wasn’t that push. But he really didn’t want to lose Rick in the process of keeping Ford. He knew a physical relationship wouldn’t set him off. It’d grind his nerves, sure, but it wouldn’t end things. Stan had a right to some happiness, after all.

“What do you say?” Stan said. “Should we fuck here – probably standing somewhere – or should we go home and ruin Ford’s day?”

“God, that’s a tough one. Let’s ruin Ford’s day.”


End file.
